


Three for Three

by smutty_claus



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:20:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smutty_claus/pseuds/smutty_claus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Hermione are sowing their wild oats and reaping the benefits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three for Three

**Author's Note:**

> Are you the author of this story and just got your own AO3 account? Email me at: smuttyclausmods@gmail.com and I will edit the author name to reflect your new account!

**To: sweet_lemmon  
From: Your Secret Santa**

 

**Title:** Three for Three  
**Author:** [quidditchgrrl](http://quidditchgrrl.livejournal.com/)  
**Pairing:** Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger/Harry Potter  
**Summary:** Harry and Hermione are sowing their wild oats and reaping the benefits.  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** None  
**Author's notes:** I hope you enjoy this, sweet_lemmon. Many thanks to my beta reader A. and to r_becca for yet another year of wonderful fic.

* * *

 

"Oh, Harry, you have to come. I've been here for almost a month, it's amazing."

Harry was in his bedroom, listening to Hermione as she chatted from the fireplace connection. This also doubled as his sitting room when the Murphy bed wasn't pulled out in his studio apartment. Having a Muggle residence kept the batty gossipmongers and the Quidditch paparazzi away from his front door. It also made the possibility of running into his former fiancee much less likely.

In fact, his summer had consisted of avoiding the public eye as much as possible. The studio apartment in a Muggle neighborhood near Diagon Alley he was living in helped considerably, as did the fact that he rarely needed to go out aside from training and team meetings.

A year ago, Harry Potter had quit Auror training to try out for the Puddlemere United Quidditch team. He'd loved playing so much and, with his future as an Auror in no jeopardy, it seemed a waste not to accept Oliver Wood's invitation to an open practice session.

Ginny, however, felt differently. She made no secret of the fact that she wanted Harry to complete Auror training and secure a position in the Ministry, with the two of them settling somewhere in southern England. The idea of ten months of training, meetings, traveling, games, media events and publicity did not appeal to her at all. The thrill of being invited to join the team had left Harry starry-eyed and he thought Ginny would come around and embrace his exciting new opportunity. A few months later, with reporters all but camping out in the Weasleys' orchard, he'd had to hire an agent and two security trolls to maintain a perimeter around the Burrow at all times.

What had started out as the pursuit of an adolescent dream had turned into a real chance of a long-term career in professional Quidditch. The Puddlemere first-team Seeker, Winston Merrythorpe, had been plagued with injuries. When he was placed on injured reserve, Harry'd started a game against the Montrose Magpies, capturing the snitch to secure the win. After that, he moved up to reserve, then to the starting position when Merrythorpe went out for the year. The rest of the season was a blur of hotel rooms, campsites, matches and interminable press conferences that Harry, as a first-year player with no publicity rider, was required to attend.

No matter how little he said, or as many times as he steered the questions back to the subject of Quidditch, the papers would print sensational stories about him. Harry's supposed exploits on the field would be the stuff of legend, though Puddlemere barely made it to the playoffs and were bounced in the first round. His training regimen was super-human, yet he reported to the pitch for practices and workouts like every other player. When he went out with his teammates, dozens of photographers followed him everywhere, their flashbulbs popping from dark corners so that his face in photos looked bleary and his eyes half-closed. Witches threw themselves at him, delighting the photogs and providing _Witch Weekly_ with juicy and scandalous-sounding print.

Many tearful arguments he and Ginny had had, he denying her waspish accusations and ripping up the latest gossip rag while she alternately railed at him and belittled herself for not being glamorous enough for his new career. The social aspect of spending time with his teammates off the pitch was important, even if it was going to a pub so they could blow off steam. Ginny would accuse him of being on the prowl, or trying to purposefully humiliate her by allowing himself to be photographed with excited fans. He'd wanted her to accompany him during the season, but she wouldn't hear of delaying her healer training - "_one_ of us will need to have a job when you've come back to your senses" - and in the end it was easier to let her believe what she wanted to believe. Their breakup had been a terse affair after yet another night of shouted recriminations and adamant denials. Harry had moved out of the Burrow and into the small furnished flat the next day, buying an owl and sending the new address to Puddlemere's general manager and to Ron.

Ron, who had accompanied Harry on several trips abroad, was unfailingly supportive of the idea of Harry and Ginny reuniting at some point in the near future. He seemed to think, like Ginny, that Harry's Quidditch ambitions would peter out quickly and Harry would return to training after a season or two. "You'll have a couple of fun seasons, then you can get back to it, mate," Ron had said one night as Harry packed up his broomstick and uniform. "I mean, it's not like you're planning to do this for a living."

"Actually," Harry had said, "I kind of want to give this my best shot and see where it will take me. One season, five seasons, however many I can manage, that's what I want to do."

"Oh, come off it," Ron'd replied. "By then you'll be limping all the time and have forgotten all your Auror training. Nothing to fall back on." Harry hadn't answered, and Ron undoubtedly remembered Harry's Gringotts' vault full of gold. Harry, unlike Ron, did have something to fall back on, and while Ron never mentioned it again, Harry had the feeling that once again fate was conspiring to drive a wedge between he and his best friend.

Nothing in either Ron's visits nor Hermione's letters or firecalls had alerted Harry to the fact that anything was amiss in their relationship. Both seemed to enjoy training, Hermione was taking extra courses via owl correspondence and if their visits to his matches were usually separate, Harry chalked it up to practical training schedules or overnight portkey restrictions. Ron was always chatting up the team hangers-on, but Ron had always been a bit naff when it came to women.

The night Ron and Hermione had broken off their engagement, Ron had shown up at the door of Harry's flat, drunk. Harry'd let him in and allowed Ron the dignity of passing out in the bathroom. Over toast and tea the next morning, Ron had given Harry the news - Hermione had broken up with him, was quitting her training. Something about needing time and needing her space to grow, Ron had explained. Harry'd supposed that was fair enough, and had consoled Ron as best he could before showing him to the Murphy bed and Apparating to Dover for his next Quidditch match.

Hermione's owl had arrived late that night as the team camped out near the game site. _I hope Ron is okay, and you're not too upset with me, Harry. This is something I have to do before I decide what to do with the rest of my life. I am not sure I'm cut out to be an Auror, and I am definitely not ready to be a wife and daughter-in-law. Right now I am staying with my parents and making some travel plans, I will let you know where I am heading next. I hope you're well. - Hermione_

"I miss you too," Hermione was saying, "I can't wait to see you. Viktor says you did a great job in the playoffs, even if you didn't end up catching the snitch. I wish I could have been there." She smiled and looked over her shoulder. "Viktor wants a word. I'll see you next week, Harry."

"See you then." Harry said, smiling back at her. Until now, he hadn't realized exactly how much he'd missed his best friend. This trip to Bulgaria was just what he needed. Time away from the fishbowl of England, physical labor in the fresh air and sunshine, and time with friends interested in more than Quidditch stats.

"Potter, when you get here," Viktor came into view, "Apparate to the northern paddock and walk in. We're not using it right now, since most of the flock are molting and our Draig is nesting. You know where it is?"

"Kind of, can you give me the co-ordinates? I don't want to Apparate and end up in Macedonia or somewhere equally under siege." Harry jotted down the information Viktor gave him, feeling a jolt of anticipation.

Viktor Krum, star seeker of the Bulgarian National team, owned a dragon preserve in southwestern Bulgaria, which he ran full time in the off season. He and Harry had kept in sporadic touch since Voldemort's death, and in more regular contact since Harry'd joined Puddlemere. When Bulgaria met Puddlemere in a quarter-final matchup, they'd reconnected in earnest. Viktor had invited Harry to spend the last month of the off-season working with dragons and other magical beasts.

"A holiday from the real world, I think you need this," Viktor had said, shaking Harry's hand when he'd agreed to come. "It is unplottable, there will be no one there to spy on you and being in the mountains, that is good, too."

"I look forward to it," Harry'd replied.

Krum was now asking Harry if he needed anything else. "No, no, Viktor, this will get me there alright. Thanks for inviting me."

"Not a problem. I will be looking for you." Viktor's head disappeared along with the fire, leaving Harry to another day of light training and forced solitude.

 

_Two weeks later _

Harry arrived at the top of a hill outside of the Bulgarian town of Sandanski and made his way southwest until he felt the Muggle-repelling charms that signaled the perimeter of the preserve. He cut across the large flat valley paddock, which was full of craters and mounds no doubt made by giant claw-footed creatures. The main stable came into view and Harry skirted the inner stableyards, circling to the front. He heard Viktor's voice coming from the barn.

"Hello?" Harry called, pushing his knapsack into a corner and entering the shelter of the barn overhang. With dragons, Harry wasn't exactly sure what to expect. The barn was made of brick, metal and concrete, with stall doors big enough to drive a small tank through. Some of the vents on the stalls were open, which gave Harry pause. He didn't want to be flash-fried by wandering into a restricted area.

He called again, before pulling out his wand and cautiously moving into the barn itself. No sounds issued from the first two stalls he passed, and looking into one with a half-open vent, he saw a sleeping hippogryff. As he moved further along the corridor, Harry saw the open middle area and what looked like a tack room; great harnesses and chains could been seen hanging from the walls. Hearing a low murmur coming from that way, Harry moved toward the partially open door.

The door to the tack room had slats that made it easy to see inside, and just as he took a breath to call out to Viktor, he caught sight of a tangle of bushy brown hair.

"Hermi-," Harry called.

Harry's instinct for subterfuge had served him well over the course of his life, and he was able to spare an awkward situation by instantly shrinking back against the far edge of the walkway, out of sight but still able to see what he'd almost walked in on.

Hermione's biceps bulged as she used a thick length of chain to pull herself up against the wall, back arched. Her naked legs were wrapped around Viktor's hips. The smoothness of her naked limbs and torso contrasted with the rough fabric of Viktor's clothing, which he still wore in its entirety, the front flies open. Their bodies moved in concert as they thrust together.

Breathing quickly, Harry crouched down, holding onto the wall for support. After a panicked glance around, he fixed his line of sight back into the room, even as he knew he should turn and leave them in privacy. His legs felt like anchors and the growing heaviness in his groin kept him rooted to the spot, watching with horrified, guilty pleasure.

"You want it to be him doing this to you," Viktor said roughly, lifting his head to look into Hermione's flushed, sweaty face as the force of his thrusts jolted her into the rough wall.

She breathed, "No."

Viktor continued harshly, "Yes. You want him, I know it. He is blind, but I can see."

"I want you," she twisted her hips against his.

"You want it all, don't you, Hermione?" Viktor lowered his head to speak directly into her ear. She went momentarily limp, her eyes fluttering closed in obvious excitement. "Could you stand it?" he said, grasping her arse and pulling her tightly against his thrusting hips.

"Yes."

Harry's mind was reeling. A surge of desire pulsed in him as he envisioned himself in Viktor's place, of kissing Hermione breathless and feeling her flushed skin against his. He adjusted his fully swollen cock in his trousers, palming it, until he remembered he was much more exposed to anyone wandering through the barn area.

Dropping his hand, he watched as Viktor pulled Hermione's legs as far apart as they would go, each of his short, sharp thrusts causing Hermione to cry out in response to each. Harry thought that if Hermione could be broken, it would happen in the next few moments, her body pinned to the wall so tightly as Viktor pumped against her furiously, grunting broken words into the curve of her neck as she strained to get even closer than skin-on-skin.

Her cry of ecstasy echoed through the barn, startling Harry and sending him onto his knees. He righted himself and repositioned his view in time to see Viktor stiffen, bucking once, twice before a long, low groan signaled his release. Viktor's knees went weak and he slumped against Hermione for a moment before pulling her gently away from the wall and helping her steady herself on her feet.

Harry came to his senses, but not before he registered the tapering lines of Hermione's nude body. She was petite, her hips flaring to sturdy legs. Her breasts were flushed a deep damask red, with equally dark nipples cresting their fullness.

Coming to his feet, he moved back out of the barn the way he came as silently as possible. Once out of the barn overhang, he leaned against the wall, turning his head to the sky. His cock was still throbbing and it took him several seconds to regain control and several more to feel like he could make another approach without causing an embarrassing scene for all of them.

He walked back into the barn, calling to Hermione and Viktor a few meters before he would have otherwise, giving them any extra time they might need to regroup. Harry's mouth curved in something like amusement as he noticed the disturbed straw near the tack room and he kicked the dirt lightly to destroy his shoeprints.

Hermione turned to look through the slats and Harry could see Viktor sitting beside her, wrapping her hand in a large white bandage.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked, jumping up and running to greet him, trailing several inches of bandage behind. She threw herself into his arms and hugged him fiercely. He squeezed her back, pulling her up on her toes as she kissed his cheek. Her lips were surprisingly cool and soft. When they let go, they stood back and took a long look at each other. It appeared Hermione had missed him as much as he'd missed her. Indeed, she was thinner, but her arms looked more defined; her natural freckles were accentuated by a deep tan and traces of the deep flush she'd been wearing a few minutes before.

Viktor came out of the room and shook Harry's hand, clapping him on the shoulder in greeting. "You were able to get here with no trouble?"

"Everything was fine." Harry nodded. "Hermione, what did you do to your hand?"

"Oh, this," she said, winding the rest of the bandage around her palm, "I got a little...enthusiastic, and cut myself on a hippogryff bridle." Her cheeks colored. "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Viktor scowled. "Hermione, you need to be careful at all times."

"You're working with the animals?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, her voice confident. "I like the creatures Viktor has here and I'm learning quite a bit about dragons and he even has some thestrals."

"I think that's great," Harry said.

"Let's go up to the house, so we can be sure your hand is clean before we heal it." Viktor led them through the tack room and outside. At the top of a small hill was a stone chateau. Viktor led them up a gravel pathway to the mudroom door. Both he and Hermione's boots were muddy and covered with hay. Harry removed his trainers as well and left them in the small room.

Moving into the kitchen, Viktor took a brown bottle from a low cabinet and uncorked it. Sniffing it, he turned to Hermione and motioned her into a chair, unwrapping the thick bandage. She hissed as the increasingly blood-soaked bandage pulled at her split palm. The gash was quite deep and even Harry winced as Viktor gently worked the fabric out of the wound. Hermione looked up at Viktor and then to Harry.

"Hold my hand, will you?" she said, holding her uninjured hand out to Harry. He took it and allowed her to crush his fingers as Viktor applied the smoking purple tincture to her hand.

"What have you been up to in your time off?" Hermione asked, hissing a little as the potion did its work to disinfect her cut. "Did you go and visit your cousin like you'd been thinking of?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, "I did pop in on him. He was surprised to see me," he grinned, "because he didn't know I was coming until he opened the door."

Hermione laughed. "You didn't."

"Did. He did pull himself together enough to invite me in, offered me some tea. My uncle died a year or so ago, massive coronary. My aunt bought herself a nice house in the country with the life insurance payout. Dud was working for Grunnings, his dad got him the job, but he's been laid off for a couple of months now."

"Oh dear," said Hermione.

"He's not exactly low on funds, though, Dudley. Bringing in a tidy sum selling amphetamines to the chavs in the neighborhood, I reckon."

Hermione shook her head. "I guess a family reunion isn't in the works anytime soon."

"Dudley did keep tight hold on his buttocks the entire time, if I remember right." Their sniggering turned into peals of laughter as they imagined Harry's muggle cousin living with a permanent pig's tale.

"What is the joke?" Viktor asked.

"My cousin, he's a Muggle, and he got a pig's tail for my eleventh birthday," Harry said. At Viktor's bemused expression, he said, "Long story."

Viktor rewrapped Hermione's hand. "This will have to wait while I brew a sealing potion to close the wound. I will do it after dinner. Will you be able to hold on until then?"

"Oh, yes, it feels much better now that it's been cleaned. I can go back out and finish up now."

"I think you should stay here, you and Harry can play catch up while I finish with the afternoon work," Viktor said.

"Oh no," said Hermione. "You're too busy with your stableboy off on holiday. I'm fine, and Harry can help me. We'll catch up while we work. You don't mind, do you, Harry?"

"No, I came for a working holiday and get some fresh air," Harry said. "Where are the dragons?"

"Ah. I will show you, give you a tour of the area. Most of our flock are in the process of molting, which causes them a bit of distress. They like to be alone and we've got them spread out in several areas." Viktor moved to the mud room and pulled his boots back on. "I have dragonhide gloves here, extra for you." He handed Harry a pair of the tough, scaly gloves.

"Hermione, I think you should use the gloves too, if you're going to finish feeding the young hippogryffs." He held out another, smaller pair to her but Hermione shook her head.

"They need to be handled gently, with warm hands or they won't thrive," she said.

Viktor frowned. "I have never heard that before."

"All babies need to be nurtured and cuddled in order to grow, it's a rule of nature." Hermione said. "Don't worry, I've learned my lesson and I'll be doubly careful now. See you when you get back." She turned and headed down toward the barn.

Viktor motioned Harry toward the back of the house. "Hermione, she is headstrong. When she has made her mind, that is the way she is going."

"Yep, that's Hermione for you."

They walked over the crest of the hill, coming down into another small clearing which held two small Welsh dragons, red and green. Both looked ashy and drab. Harry squinted into the corral.

"Are they using those as scratching posts?" Harry asked, pointing to several twenty foot tall fir trees whose branches were littered and draped with scaly sheets.

"Yes, they rub against those to get the tough spots off." Viktor led Harry around the perimeter fence. "We have strong protective and barrier spells around the enclosure so we don't need to chain the dragons to the ground to keep them contained."

Viktor took Harry through three more work areas containing dragons in various stages of maturity. Harry was most eager to work with the dragons, but Viktor warned him that dragon taming and care was extremely dangerous. "You can work with the dragonlings and help with moving the Welsh since their molting is nearly complete."

Coming back around to the barn, Harry was surprised at the large variety of magical creatures Viktor kept. In addition to dragons and hippogryffs, there were several beautiful thestrals in the largest stalls, an area full of pygmy puffs and in the attic rafters, a stare of owls.

They found Hermione sitting cross-legged among a group of pygmy puffs. She was using a paddle brush to smooth each small puffball's coat. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Hermione looking so content. When she saw them in the doorway, she pushed herself up and joined them.

"I got everyone fed and watered," she said, falling into step with them. "I was going to start mucking out the thestrals' stalls, if you want to rub them down while I do."

"Why don't you and Potter -" Viktor demurred to using Harry's given name, "Harry, rub down the thestrals while I do the stalls. And by this I mean, you rest your hand while you instruct Harry." His tone was one Harry figured Viktor had used on Hermione more than once while she'd been in residence here.

"So, how long have you been here?" Harry asked as they pulled out linseed oil, loofah sponges and chamois cloths from a supply closet.

"About a week." Hermione took down a lead rope from the wall and they walked out to the first large stall. The thestral seemed to recognize Hermione and allowed her put the rein over its head. It eyed Harry cautiously but eased into a walk once it realized that Harry could see it. "I'd been writing to Viktor and he invited me to come and stay for a bit." She busied herself setting up the grooming supplies, biting her lip. "I was coming to loose ends," she said. "There are only so many buildings to tour, so many quaint cafes in so many ancient cities."

"What are you going to do once you come back home?" Harry asked.

"I'm not quite sure I'll be home for a while," she murmured. "I might try and transfer into the Department of Mysteries, or the Office of Experimental Charms." She began to explain the grooming procedure and brought the subject around to Harry's latest news and his plans for the next Quidditch season.

"Well, I've got the starting position for sure, no one showed any real promise as a Seeker. A young bloke tried out as a Chaser, he might suit as a Seeker once he's out of Hogwarts." Harry tried unsuccessfully to bring the conversation around to Hermione, but she deftly deflected his attempts until he mentioned Ron.

"How is Ron?" she asked with a note of what Harry was glad to interpret as real concern.

"He's - he's fine," Harry said. "Getting on with things - Hermione, are you going to tell me what happened between you two?" he asked in a rush.

Hermione stopped working for a second, then started up again, not meeting Harry's eyes. "It's down to me," she said. "I started questioning what I truly wanted from life and what I wanted for my future. I didn't want to become an Auror, get married, and spend the rest of my life filling out paperwork on bootleg carpets and going to the Burrow for Sunday suppers.

"Ron didn't understand why I felt that way, why I wanted to explore my options more thoroughly before starting into practical training. It got to the point where we were having a row every time we saw each other, we were both miserable to be around, and when..." she trailed off for a moment. Harry looked at her out of the corner of his eye, but she looked resolute rather than sad.

"And when you and Ginny broke up, that was my wake-up call."

"What?" Harry said. "You broke up with Ron because..."

Hermione made an impatient gesture. "No, I knew that if I was going to figure out what I wanted my life to look like in a year, five years, ten years, I needed to embrace the here and now with a clean slate. That wasn't going to happen with all the people in my life constantly looking over my shoulder and telling me what I ought to be doing."

"Oh." Harry knew exactly the feeling she described. The feeling of having every option open, but without the ability to choose independent of the wishes of other people. The weight of impossibly high expectations that could never be satisfied. A slice of guilt went through him. "If I ever made you feel..."

"Oh no, Harry," she said, looking at him at last, "you were one of the only people who didn't pressure me. You, and Viktor," she said, turning back to reoil her chamois. "I knew that if you could make the choice to follow your dream no matter what the cost, I could do it too."

They worked in silence for some time. Harry felt a bit flummoxed at the idea of Hermione being, for lack of a better term, inspired by what he considered his blundering, ham-handed attempts at not ending up exactly as she'd said, another Ministry flunky coming to the office and pushing paper, hoping for the excitement of searching for suspected dark artifacts at Malfoy Manor.

"You think I was silly, throwing away my training like that," Hermione said, donning an overlarge pair of dragonhide gloves and rinsing the chamois in a bucket of turpentine.

"No, I think you did what was right for you." Harry replied honestly. "Did you think I was throwing my training away?"

"Harry, you're...Harry Potter." She smiled at him. "I know you hate hearing it, but Quidditch is pretty much the only profession I can think of that you could not get a free pass into. Feels good, doesn't it, to be doing something solely because you're good at it and not because you're the famous Harry Potter?"

"I've been riding that feeling since I made the team," he admitted, a genuine smile spreading over his face. This was what he'd missed about her since she'd been gone - her ability to express what he felt and thought in a way that made sense out of the jumble that was his mind's eye. Even Ron could not pick out the way Harry's brain worked, the meaning behind what motivated him to continue to prove himself, if only to make it easier to sleep at night.

Harry tossed his chamois into the bucket and gathered up the used grooming tools. Hermione walked the thestral back to the now-clean stall and came back a few minutes later with its counterpart.

"Viktor thinks we should dine al fresco tonight. Does coq au vin sound good to you?"

"Sure," said Harry. "Will we have to dress the chicken ourselves, then, this being a whole-food preserve?"

"I'm sure we can pull something together without that much work," she laughed.

"How have you and Viktor been getting along? He seemed a bit put out when you cut your hand earlier," Harry asked.

"We get along as well as we ever have, though sometimes he thinks I'm too independent."

"Are you?"

"Only recently."

Viktor joined them a short time later and the three of them headed up to the house in comfortable silence. Viktor poured wine and ordered Harry and Hermione to the patio while he cooked dinner, occasionally asking Harry questions through the open window.

Dinner was an unhurried affair, with plenty of wine and excellent conversation. Viktor brewed a healing potion which closed the gash on Hermione's palm, leaving a thin white scar. When Viktor and Harry began talking Quidditch, Hermione excused herself for the night.

Viktor and Harry each caught the other's eye as they followed her silhouette into the house. Harry cleared his throat and Viktor frowned slightly but smoothed over the awkward moment by returning to their previous topic of discussion.

In the morning Harry was awakened by Hermione's knock on the door. He pulled on his glasses and read the clock face, which showed it was 5:45am. Groaning, he sat up. "I'm awake."

Hermione opened the door. She was dressed as she was yesterday, in trousers and a button-up shirt. "If you'd like to come and feed the dragons, they'll be ready in about ten minutes at the barn."

Harry pulled on his clothes and a pair of boots Viktor had loaned him. Pulling on a jacket from the mud room, he met up with Viktor, Hermione and several rough-looking wizards. Viktor introduced his field staff, handed Harry a broomstick and said, "You have a strong stomach, Potter?"

"I can handle this, I think," he said. His intuition told him that they would be heading down to one of the pastures containing turkeys and sheep, which would end up as dragon breakfast after a fashion.

Hermione was pulling on dragonhide gloves along with the rest of the work crew, looking as thought she'd been doing this for years. "This doesn't bother you?" Harry asked as they started off.

"It's the natural way of things, isn't it?" Hermione answered. "Of course it would be wonderful if dragons could live on pine needles or gillyweed, but I think they prefer a better source of protein."

Feeding and tending dragons was a gruesome task. Harry and Hermione watched while each pair of dragons was fed a few head of livestock, then rotated into a fresh pasture. Hermione motioned Harry into a recently-vacated yard and pulled out a small bag. Out of it she pulled two rakes, two shovels, and two bushel-sized baskets.

"If you'll take the trees, I'll collect the dung." Harry flew around each of the trees, raking down the dry scales. The work was strenuous but gratifying in its simplicity. Both the dung and the scales would be sold and used in various potions and powders, nothing wasted.

Harry had never considered Hermione athletic; in fact, she'd avoided all physical activity while in school. He mentioned it now, and she admitted sheepishly that she was nearly bedridden on her second day at the preserve due to overexertion.

"I got used to it quickly, though," she stated matter-of-factly. "I used to swim, ski or hike every holiday when I was growing up. At school I was just too busy to bother with flying and all those stairs was exercise enough back then."

"You're doing a great job."

They made their way back to the group who, tired from the exertion, settled onto the porch to eat their home-brought breakfasts while Harry, Hermione and Viktor went inside to eat.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon was spent feeding and exercising the other animals. Hermione showed Harry how to hold a baby hippogryff and feed it grubs by hand. When Viktor came back from a forest clearing project, he and Harry worked with the thestrals, talking about various subjects as they walked them around the inner circle.

Once again, Harry found that he enjoyed the hands-on nature of being among magical creatures who didn't need magical care. Viktor was a good conversationalist and knowledgable about many things aside from Quidditch. He was opinionated on many issues, and he and Hermione got into a spirited debate about the currently unrestricted use of veritaserum over dinner that night.

The next few days worked themselves into a pattern, with the crew rotating for weekend shifts. Harry was able to help with the dragon rotations and practiced strengthening his stunning spells on a very young dragonling. A new baby dragon hatched, to the delight of the crew and amusement of Harry and Hermione, who remembered Norbert only too well.

"Hermione, do you think she misses England?" Viktor asked one afternoon as they placed saddles on the thestrals' backs.

"Dunno," said Harry. "From what she's written to me over the past few months and what she's told me so far, she seems to enjoy traveling and I can tell she likes this place."

"Hm," said Viktor. "She does like it, but I think she is lonely here, even among friends."

"She's trying to decide what her next step should be, I suppose. I reckon she needs her space to figure out what that's going to be."

Viktor nodded and met Harry's eyes. "I hope she decides to go after what it is she wants."

Early in the week Harry had to return home for a team meeting and pre-season press conference. He arranged for a portkey directly to London and hiked back to the top of the ridge to find the rusted tin can in the designated spot.

The team meeting was a grand welcome back and Harry felt buoyed by the prospect of another season of play. A few of his teammates ribbed him upon hearing of his stay at Viktor's home, but for the most part they were interested in what other players did in the off-season and several asked Harry to mention to Viktor the idea of putting together a player's retreat.

The press conference had not gone quite as smoothly. Harry's newly-negotiated contract stipulated that he could refuse to answer any question which did not pertain directly to Quidditch, meaning Harry spent nearly three hours saying, "Sorry, I will not comment on that," and becoming increasingly irritated at the thinly-veiled insults which masqueraded as questions from this bunch of hacks who seemed more determined than ever to dig up information to be stretched into a scandal.

He arrived in Bulgaria hot, tired and irritated, wanting nothing more than to work out his frustration by clearing out stalls or just taking a long broomstick ride through the countryside. Walking into the barn, he doffed his tailored robes and dress shoes and left them in a heap by the door, grabbing an old pair of boots and charming them down to size.

The air in the barn crackled and Harry felt certain he would find Viktor and Hermione _in flagrante delecto_ once again. This time, he crept silently to the edge of the tack room, pressing his back against the wall to remain unseen on his approach. He was half-hard with anticipation before he crouched down to have a look inside.

What he saw nearly startled a gasp from him, and he had to press his palm over his mouth to prevent sound from escaping. Directly in front of him were their entwined bodies, laying on a bale of straw which had been given a cushioning charm. Hermione was moving on top of Viktor, head thrown back, breasts swaying with her undulating hips.

"You're so beautiful," Viktor growled. "What do you think he would say if he saw you like this?" His hands came up and cupped her breasts, fondling the nipples roughly. "Would he want to join in? Would you suck him if he asked?" She whined softly, arching into him. "Answer me," Viktor commanded.

"Oh yes," she breathed. "Anything."

"He could come at any moment and see you like this, you naked and willing to do anything. Do you think he might find us like this one day, fucking in the barn like animals." She leaned forward, her long curly hair falling forward to hide her face. Viktor's hands moved up to cup her face and lifted his lips to hers, tongues entwining.

Harry was so close to them he could make out the faint whisker burns on Hermione's neck as she leaned down. If he breathed too heavily, if he moved so much as an inch, he would be noticed, he was sure.

"What would you do if he was walking into the barn right now, Hermione? Would you try to stop - oh no," Viktor said, pulling Hermione down tight against him, "I wouldn't let you get away before he got a look at you, stripped naked and spread open for me. Then he would know what he's missing, yes?" He hissed. Shifting his weight, he flipped over and pulled Hermione under him, pushing his cock roughly back between her legs.

"He would hear you calling out with pleasure and wishing he could make you come the way I do," Viktor groaned. Hermione scored his back with her fingernails, causing Viktor to arch up with a sharp intake of breath.

Harry's own cock moved between his thighs, beating heavily in time with the staccato rhythm of his heart. Any second, any moment, Viktor would look up and see him. There was no retreat, for any noise coming from this close would be surely heard. Harry's blood pounded harder in his ears, in his cock, nearly drowning out the sounds of Viktor and Hermione urging each other closer to the brink of insanity.

"I want to watch when he takes you," Viktor growled. "I want to watch him make you come over and over."

Hermione's body arched and strained with the intensity of the pleasure she felt, the crest of it breaking over her in a great wave. She threw her head back, her face etched with silent ecstasy. Harry bit down on his lip until he tasted blood, fighting the need to breathe, to move as his cock jerked, spilling into his pants, his vision blurring for a moment as he rode out his own release in agonizing immobility.

Dimly, he heard Viktor's harsh breaths and Hermione's whispered encouragements as Viktor took his pleasure. "I'd want you to join us, be in control, Viktor. We would do anything you wanted us to," Hermione promised. Viktor groaned, slamming into her harder than ever. "You could take me from behind while I used my mouth-" she broke off on a gasp of arousal, losing herself in the fantasy. "Yes, please," she moaned.

Harry couldn't take anymore. Heedless of the noise he might make, he took a deep breath and backed away from the slatted gates before turning and walking as fast as his rubbery legs would carry him back to the house.

Twenty minutes later, Harry stepped out of the shower and dressed quickly. He didn't feel up to the subterfuge it would require to seek out Viktor and Hermione, so he crossed to the broomshed and took off into the horizon.

It wasn't right. The temptation was overwhelming, with Hermione so close and seemingly so willing. He couldn't and wouldn't add more complication to the lives of anyone else. He'd promised this before, and failed, but this - this was easy enough to decide upon. He had a choice, and to choose the path of least resistance would be the right way to go. It would be unfair to everyone involved...and there were so many people involved.

Going home and eliminating the risk was the only option that made sense. Yet, as Harry soared and dived over and over, it was the option that appealed to him least. He loved it here. The relative solitude, the lack of worldly pressures, the immediate impact of the work on the surroundings - these things, as well as the welcoming company of Viktor, his work crew and Hermione, made it difficult to harden his resolve to pack up for London and his tiny flat. The knowledge that, if he so chose, he could partake in what promised to be some very satisfying sex-

"Oy!" Harry was jolted out of his thoughts as Viktor swooped down, missing the tip of his broom by inches.

Viktor looped back and fell into formation with Harry. "We were wondering where you had gone to."

"Oh, I...well, I didn't think to let you know I was back," Harry said, then winced at how obvious a lie it sounded.

"Hm." Harry looked over at Viktor, but if he noticed the discomfort in Harry's tone, he didn't show it. Viktor seemed as he always was, more at ease on a thin plank of wood than standing on solid ground.

They flew along in silence for a moment before Viktor asked, "How did the meeting go, any good news?"

"The usual. Wood is asking for more money, Peterson is talking about becoming a free agent after this year and talking a multi-national move. Everyone wants to know how badly the team wants the World Cup, as if we show up for the games and punch a timeclock."

Viktor nodded. "Ah, yes, the usual. That is why I like it here, I can say I am too busy for interviewing."

"So that's what you tell people," Harry said.

"Yes, I do not talk much. But I am only famous for Quidditch. You are famous for being alive. This makes you interesting, yes?"

"Hardly," Harry mumbled. "Oh, and several of the blokes want the chance to wrangle dragons in Bulgaria for a bit of light cross-training."

Viktor grunted. "They wouldn't last a day before becoming a crisp. Let's head back, Hermione will wonder where we have gone."

They turned their brooms around and headed the fifteen or so miles back to the house, shooting past each other, feinting and sideswiping and diving recklessly through trees and along fenceposts. Harry wasn't sure how he would manage to act normally around Hermione, after seeing her in yet another intimate moment. His brain kept replaying the wild look of pleasure on her face, no matter how he tried to divert his thoughts to other things.

"Harry, where have you been? I was getting worried." Hermione came into the mud room, wearing a white apron and holding a large wooden spoon. "I've made a treacle pudding, your favorite," she said, smiling at him. "How was your meeting?"

"Treacle is my favorite, too," Viktor said.

"I know. Convenient isn't it?" Hermione's smiled widened. "I think it tastes best made from scratch, so it will be done just in time for dessert. Dinner's ready now though." She turned and walked back into the kitchen, Viktor and Harry both watching the natural motion of her hips as she went.

Harry'd never taken much note of how unintentionally inviting Hermione's walk was. He hastily finished pulling off his boots and picked a pair of warm woolen socks to wear inside.

Dinner was for Harry an exercise in hiding the various distractions issuing from his brain. Twice Hermione had to re-ask a question she'd posed to him, and twice Harry'd flushed slightly as he'd been watching her mouth move rather than listening to the words she was saying. She gave him a curious look, but didn't comment.

Hermione's advice for dealing with the paparazzi was the same as always. "Ignore it, Harry," she said. "I know it's always bothered you, but reacting isn't going to change what they write about you. Make them work harder for their copy."

Harry nodded. "I definitely need to work on that. Not like it's not been happening since I was fourteen."

"You are too concerned with what others think of you, you want them to all like you," Viktor said, pouring each of them another glass of wine. "This is why these vultures," he made a dismissive gesture, "flock to you. They know this weakness, and use it against you."

"I hate not being able to go out for dinner without seeing every mouthful being rechewed in Witch Weekly," Harry grumbled. "It's hard to ignore when you have tomato sauce on your chin, and you have to look at it on every newsstand."

Hermione sighed. "Harry."

Harry's insides lurched before he realized she was saying his name to communicate both sympathy and exasperation, breathy as it was. But it recalled to him all the things that could happen between them, things he'd never seriously considered until recently.

"Dinner was great, Hermione, thanks," Harry said abruptly, draining his wine glass and standing up. "I think I'm going to make this an early night, I'm knackered."

Hermione and Viktor looked at him, surprised. "We haven't even had dessert yet," Hermione said. "Surely you don't want to miss out on warm treacle?"

"I'll have some tomorrow, I want to get to bed." Trying to ignore the guilt he felt at Hermione's crestfallen face, he took his dishes into the kitchen and went to his room.

Of course, in the way of things too much wished for, Harry could not sleep. His tired mind sifted through a hundred thoughts, passed through the same number of conversations, past and future, and whenever he resolved to clear his mind, inevitably he would end back in the stable, crouched on the dusty floor.

It was well after midnight when Harry felt Hermione and Viktor were asleep and he would not disturb anyone by going to the main part of the house. He lit his wand and made his way to the living room. Crossing the space, he noticed a movement and turned to see Viktor on the sofa, holding his index finger to his lips. Harry saw Hermione resting against Viktor's side, asleep.

Staying on course, Harry got a glass of water from the sink. Coming back into the sitting room, he sat down in a chair and looked at the two of them. Viktor was stroking Hermione's hair gently while she slept.

"She was hurt that you didn't wait to try her dessert," Viktor said in a low voice.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. He leaned forward and looked at the floor between his bare feet. "I..." There was no excuse he could give for his sudden departure of earlier, aside from blurting out what he'd seen, and Harry didn't figure that revelation would help matters any.

"Hermione feels like she is intruding on your time here. I have convinced her that this is not true, but if it is -"

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Harry said, his insides squirming. In truth, he himself felt like an interloper, not just because of what he'd seen, but because he'd felt an undercurrent from the time he'd arrived here. It was intimacy between friends, but friends who were more, who wanted to be more. And this, more than anything, set him on an edge that he was not sure he was ready to navigate.

"I think it might be a good idea if I went home, got ready for the season there. I don't want Hermione to feel uncomfortable."

Viktor scowled. "How will that make her feel less comfortable? It will make her feel more worried. She needs to know you are not angry with her." Before Harry could respond, Viktor shifted, easing Hermione awake with a gentle tug on her arm. "Hermione, it is time for bed."

"Oh, I fell asleep," she said thickly. Noticing Harry, she sat up straight and looked at Harry and Viktor. "Is everything okay? Harry?"

"Everything is fine. Harry was just getting some water. Why don't you go to bed? Harry and I were just talking." Viktor's voice was quiet but expressed a command.

Hermione got to her feet, glancing at each man in turn. "Okay," she said, "see you two in the morning. Night." They wished her good night and watched as she disappeared into the gloom of the hallway.

"Are you her friend?" Viktor asked.

"Of course. Hermione is one of my best friends, always has been," Harry said.

"She seems to think that you will not be her friend because she will not marry your friend Weasley," Viktor said. "You have not discussed this with her."

"I -" Harry ran a hand over his hair. "Well, it hasn't really come up, and she knows that I wouldn't quit being her friend because she broke up with Ron." The excuse sounded weak, and Viktor's sniff confirmed it.

"Do you know what kind of woman Hermione is in her heart?"

"She's...a kind person who...." Harry did not have the words to give an eloquent description of another person's attributes.

Viktor snorted out loud this time. "You do not know Hermione like you think you do."

"And you do, don't you?" Harry said, rising to the bait. Anger pressed in on his chest. "What is Hermione to you, Krum? Is she just a toy for you to play with until its time to go on the road again? Are you going to keep her here or send her home, then?"

Viktor's scowl had tightened his eyes to slits. "I would never leave her alone. Hermione is a true friend to me. I share with her and she shares with me."

"Oh, I know," Harry said tightly. "I saw the two of you. In the barn. Together."

Viktor took a sharp breath, his hand clenching on the sofa arm. He and Harry eyed each other in tense silence before Viktor spoke in a gruff voice, "Then you know what Hermione is to me."

"No, I don't," Harry shot back. "You were saying things...things that..."

"Things that she needs to hear," Viktor finished. "She wants to be desired, to be controlled when most out of control. I try to fulfill her desires and fantasies."

"You're in love with her, then," Harry stated.

Viktor nodded. "I would say yes, in a way."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "In a way?"

"I know that she does not feel for me the way I feel for her. We are friends, more than most friends, but she is not in love with me."

"How do you know?"

Viktor snorted. "Because she is in love with you, Potter. Can't you tell?"

"What? No, she's not." Harry answered automatically.

"She is," Viktor said. "The idea of you imposing the kind of control over her I do, this is her ultimate wish."

"But she never, never did -" Harry stuttered. "She's always been with Ron, since we were seventeen."

"Yes, because he pursued her when you didn't. She has always known you care more about Weasley than you do about her. Hermione does not take friendship lightly and she knows that she would come between the two of you if she were the one to act."

"Ron would never forgive us," Harry said, throwing himself back into the chair. "Never. We'd never have a moment's peace. It couldn't happen."

"You are still caring about what others think. Weasley would come around eventually. If he did not, he would show himself to be like a child, weak and selfish."

"That's unfair," Harry said.

"All's fair in love and war, isn't that what they say?" Viktor stood up from the sofa. "I am going to bed. You are going to stay here until the month is up."

"I'm not going to stay just on your say-so," Harry said irritably.

"No, Potter, you're going to stay because your best friend is here, and because you'd be a coward to leave now. I won't stand between you and the door, though." The challenge issued, Viktor turned and walked out of the room, leaving Harry to stare up and the ceiling and wonder how his world had gotten so complicated.

Harry eventually went to his room, where he did manage a few hours' sleep before the sun rose. Heading into the kitchen, he saw Hermione sitting at the table with a cup of tea, Viktor at the stove, waving his wand over a large skillet.

"Viktor's taking the day off," Hermione said, "so you and I are in charge of the stables on our own today." Rather than anxious, Hermione looked excited at the prospect of a full day of hard work. "I can't wait to ride one of the dragonlings - just kidding Viktor -" she laughed as he turned around and scowled at her.

"Where are you headed?" Harry asked, grabbing a piece of toast and settling down across from Hermione at the table.

"Business, not pleasure," replied Viktor. "Trying to find a buyer for our three-month-old Welsh dragonling. There is a prospective investor in Minsk, I want to meet him in person."

They ate breakfast and wished Viktor good luck as he left.

"So, should we get right to it, then?" Hermione said, pushing back her chair and taking plates to the sink. "If you want to feed the animals, I don't have a problem mucking out the stalls."

"No, I'll do the mucking. I'm not good with the pigs."

They were able to work quickly through the morning work. Harry spent the time lost in thought, pushing different scenarios around in his mind, gauging how each impossible situation could possibly work. Most of them ended with the thought, 'If only...'

"I had a letter from Ron yesterday. He said he hadn't heard from you," Hermione said, coming into the thestral stall Harry was cleaning. "You didn't see him after your meeting?"

"Oh, no, I didn't have a chance - by the time the press conference was over, I had to rush to make the international portkey." Harry tossed straw over the bottom of the stall. "I'll send him an owl tonight."

Hermione murmured her assent. "He's not happy that you're here, you know."

"What? Why?"

"You know how Ron gets," she said.

Harry did know.

They headed back to the house for sandwiches and pumpkin juice, eating in near silence.

"You know, I don't blame you for breaking up with Ron," Harry said. "I wasn't totally shocked. I mean, you two hadn't really been together for months and whenever we were all together you were barely speaking."

"Oh, I know," Hermione said, her eyes on her plate. "I know." She didn't seem to have anything else to say on the subject, and Harry cursed himself for letting things go until they weren't sure how to talk to each other anymore.

"I would never stop being your friend or take sides, either."

"Sure. You came even though I was here and I know you don't hate me, Harry." She smiled, a little sadly. "But Ron is your very best friend and I know where your loyalties have to lie."

"Actually, I called him a variety of names, from git to arse and back when he told me you two'd split up. Then I didn't talk to him for about three days."

"Oh."

"And I haven't spent as much time with you because you've been gone, Hermione. I couldn't go with you. Ron came to me, so I know how it looked, but honestly," he returned her half-smile, "that's pretty much how it's always been, yeah? You go to ground and Ron gets it all out right away."

Hermione shrugged in reply.

"So, what's going on between you and Viktor?" Harry asked.

Hermione was silent for a beat, then replied, "What do you mean?"

"C'mon, Hermione, I know the way he looks at you," Harry lied. "Are you two an item?"

"Really, Harry, I don't think that's much your business," Hermione said, jumping up and taking her plate to the sink. "We've been friends for years now, and you'd think...you'd think..." she trailed off for a moment, her shoulder slumping, "that that would be enough."

"Are you in love with him?" Harry asked.

Hermione slumped over the sink, staring down. "You know, Harry, I've been asked that question too much of late, by too many people for too many reasons that have nothing to do with the truthful answer." She put her hand up to her face and pushed back her hair.

"Hermione, I'm sorry," Harry said, getting up and going to her. "I'm not sure what to do or say to make it better."

Hermione laughed, a hard little sound. "I'll be fine, I always am. Things will go back to something like normal soon enough."

Even though it wasn't a natural move for him, Harry pulled Hermione toward him, hugging her. She felt to Harry smaller and more fragile than he ever thought her to be. They both released breaths they didn't realize they were holding back, and Hermione squeezed him tightly around the waist before letting him go. She pushed her hair back but had no need to wipe her eyes again. Her face betrayed a calmness that Harry knew masked whatever it was she truly felt.

Harry sighed. "I wish you'd let me help."

"Not everyone needs saving, Harry."

They returned to the barn, but feedings for the smallest animals were not necessary for another couple of hours. They busied themselves straightening things here and there. Quiet at first, Hermione eventually began to chat aimlessly about owls she'd received from people they both knew.

"Any howlers?" Harry asked absently.

"Only one," Hermione answered shortly. "But it was nothing."

"Who sent it?"

"Oh, it really was nothing," Hermione repeated in an airy tone that Harry knew meant that it was anything but.

"So, if it was nothing..." Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Molly did send me some choice words about how I'd done Ron quite a bad turn and I needn't set my sights on anyone else associated with their family." Hermione's mouth twisted and she concentrated on breaking up a bale of straw for bedding.

"I see." Harry loved Mrs. Weasley, but she'd always been a bit disloyal to Hermione, who had never done anything to deserve her inconstancy. It was obvious that whatever that howler had contained, it had been upsetting for Hermione.

"Well, it was thirty seconds and gone," Hermione said, fiercely throwing loose straw into a large crate. "She isn't the boss of me."

"Or me," Harry shrugged.

"Did she send you a howler when you and Ginny broke it off?" Hermione asked.

"Not as such," Harry replied. "But she didn't invite me over for Christmas, Ron did."

"Oh dear," Hermione smiled. "I thought Mrs. Weasley invited you to spite Ginny."

"I certainly don't blame Ginny for walking out after Molly accused her of not trying hard enough to keep me happy," Harry said, cringing at the memory. "We were almost on speaking terms, Ginny and I, until then."

"What did she say when you went after her?" Hermione asked.

"That I was perfectly welcome to her family, they were more mine than hers -" Harry broke off, sighing. "The conversation degenerated from there, as you can imagine. Ron didn't tell you he was the one who invited me for dinner?"

"Ron and I were barely on speaking terms ourselves at that point."

Harry felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry I didn't notice."

"You were focused on other things. Having you in the physical middle of it would have made things worse."

"What do you mean, the physical middle?" Harry asked. "Is there any other middle?"

"Harry, you..." Hermione trailed off, biting her lip. "Ron and I were not cut out for each other, that's the long and the short of it. It became clear once you weren't with us everyday that you spent a lot of your time running interference between us, and I'm sorry for that." Hermione sounded as guilty as he felt.

"Know what?" Harry said. "Let's take a ride. How about we ride Princessa?" Harry grinned; he knew Hermione liked the preserve's breeding hippogryff. "She could use a chance to spread her wings, and so could we." He held out his hand to her.

Hermione grinned back. "That sounds like a great idea." She grabbed his hand and took off running toward the hippogryff's stall, pulling Harry along.

They made their cautious approach, saddled Princessa and led her into the yard. Harry climbed up, then helped Hermione to mount the hippogryff's back. She put her arms around his waist and he kicked off.

Soaring upward, Harry enjoyed the feel of the wind and the rippling of the animal's wings under his knees. Once they were flying along on an even plane, Hermione allowed her weight to rest against his back, solid and warm. They took Princessa around the eastern border and by Tevno Vasilashko Lake before landing in a rocky outer pasture dotted with edelweiss.

Sliding down from the saddle, Harry put his arms up to help Hermione dismount, but misjudged the distance and Hermione hit him in the chest, knocking them both to the ground. Harry'd never really thought much about Hermione's breasts - at least, hadn't thought much about them since he was school age, when he spent a fair bit of time on the breasts of every girl he knew - but they felt pleasantly firm as they pressed into his chest and expanded with her sharp intake of breath.

"Harry!" she squeaked. "I'm sorry!" She clambered off of him and held out her hand to help him up. He yanked on her arm playfully, grinning as she fell back down in a heap on top of him again. She huffed and threw her windswept hair in his face as she tried to regain her footing again. He grabbed a handful of curls and tugged gently, stopping her progress.

On her knees, Hermione looked down at Harry sprawled on the ground. "Hey!" she said. "No fair pulling hair."

"Come back down, let's look at the clouds." Harry pointed up at the blue sky. "I used to do it all the time growing up."

"I thought you spent your childhood locked in a closet-"

"A cupboard-"

"No light or food-"

"Crying out for my lost parents-"

"And plotting world domination!"

Hermione rolled to lie beside Harry, giggling.

"Nah, plotting the best way to beat Voldemort, win the war and get the girl." They turned, eyes meeting.

"Well, two out of three..." Hermione laughed up at the sky.

Harry turned his head to look at her profile. She appeared the ideal of classical beauty, the defined angles of her nose, cheeks and chin flowing into the curves of her brows and lips. He followed the arch of her neck and down the slim line of her body and wondered how the hollow of her throat would taste, if the skin was as silky as it looked.

He'd never been jealous of Ron; somehow, he always knew that no matter what happened, Hermione would be there, and her friendship was a constant he never questioned. He didn't understand the tension that had started with her visits to him on the road with Puddlemere. Justifying it as loneliness, he had put aside the way his thoughts had changed from companionship to awareness over and over again.

Hermione's warm hand slid over his knuckles, bringing his mind into the moment as she squeezed his fingers. Harry twined his fingers in hers and brought their hands up to his face, meeting her eyes as he kissed the back of her hand.

Her lips parted on a small gasp, her breasts shifting under her shirt as she did so. Awareness flared in her eyes, and Harry knew this was a moment that required either action or retreat.

It was time to decide if he wanted to go three for three.

Rolling his body toward her, Harry shifted their clasped hands until they rested next to Hermione's head. The tip of her tongue moved out to wet her lips as Harry leaned into her view. Hermione's eyes moved from his eyes to his lips and back, her expression expectant, wanting.

"Harry?" It was a question, a request. Harry answered by kissing her deeply, burying his free hand in her hair and tilting her head up to his. She softened her lips and the kiss opened, their moans of pleasure mingling with their breath as their tongues met and twisted together.

Hermione's free hand was buried in Harry's thick dark hair, cupping the nape of his neck as she held him to her, kissing him back fiercely. Harry shifted his weight again to rest his chest against Hermione's, and she arched into the pressure of his body. Harry broke the contact of their mouths and put his temple to hers.

"Hermione," Harry said, and his voice sounded calmer than he thought possible, "I don't know if this is what you want."

Her chest expanded with her shaky laugh. "I should be asking you. Harry, I know what I want." She untangled her hands and threaded them through his hair, gently tugging him up so she could look him in the face. "It's what I've been wanting for a long time."

It could not be avoided. "Viktor?" Harry asked. He was not sure how to breach the subject of her situation with Viktor without revealing all he knew, and it seemed crass to admit to spying on Hermione in her most intimate moments.

"We need to talk to him, but he will not be as upset as you might think," she said, the words hesitant.

Harry took a breath. "Do you want me to join you and Viktor?"

Hermione froze. "You've talked to Viktor, then," she said warily.

"Yes," Harry admitted. "I understand what he wants. I want to know what you want and if you think we could be ready for something like this without hurting each other beyond what our friendship can stand."

"Harry, I don't want to lose you. That is the only thing I know for certain."

He looked into her face, searching for something he might see as lacking. Her eyes met his with a level expression, communicating her acceptance of whatever decision he might come to in that moment. He thought about what it would take to begin a new chapter with her, the complete obliteration of life as they knew it. Harry's head swam a little with various images and scenarios, but it all resolved into one image - Hermione's clear brown eyes welcoming him without censure.

"You have me," he said, "I'm ready. I want you, I need you with me. I think I've been waiting on this but I didn't realize-" his voice was cut off as Hermione kissed him fully.

As much as Harry was lost in the headiness of their kisses and caresses, his mind began to drift to the world beyond the piece of sky above their heads. Ron, Ginny, the rest of the Weasley family. Viktor, Quidditch, Witch Weekly. Ron.

Forcing his mind to the present moment, Harry gave himself over to fantasy once more. "We should get back," he said, breaking off the kiss after several minutes.

Hermione agreed and they arranged their clothes and sat up. The afternoon sun was midway down in the sky and they had to call the hippogryff several times before it swooped down and allowed them to climb up for the ride home.

They made the trip in silence, but when they were safely on the ground in front of the barn, Harry kissed Hermione with gentle reassurance, holding her close for a second. He smiled as he released her. "Are you okay?"

"I think so," she smiled, her cheeks a windswept pink. "You?"

"I'm good."

While it would have been ideal to head inside the house to spend time alone together, the duties of the farm required a return to work. Harry tried to empty his mind while he worked, but he couldn't find a rhythm that would let him tune out the thoughts swirling through his mind. He attacked each chore with gusto, working up a hard sweat.

He knew he was sticking himself between his two best friends. Ron, he felt sure, would not accept Harry and Hermione in a romantic relationship and his insides clenched at what Ginny might say or do if she knew. Not to mention the field day the press would have trying to pit them against each other, chasing them day and night for some gesture they could layer a falsely titillating story over.

Then there was Hermione. Harry could not start a casual relationship with Hermione. Neither of them was wired to consider any romantic encounter a fling and there was no way they would be able to have sex without fully committing to a deeper emotional entanglement. Harry's thoughts revisited how Hermione went from no-nonsense to wild and the way she kissed him with the same wild joy. He wanted to have that, but whether he could make it happen without tearing every other part of their world into shreds...

He had to do the right thing, make the right choice and take the right risk. Every scenario he ran through his mental filter hit a snag. They couldn't hide from Ron or their families, couldn't make their relationship a secret affair. Harry's mind recoiled at the idea of that type of dishonesty. In the end, the same two choices kept moving to his forethoughts and Harry knew he had to choose which course of action to take.

He had to go home and tell Ron and Ginny what was happening, or he had to go to Hermione and tell her it could not happen.

Harry threw down his rake and wiped his face on his shirtsleeves. "Hermione," he called, striding out into the breezeway. "Where are you?"

"In the grooming corral," came her faint reply.

He walked down and found Hermione grooming a thestral. Viktor stepped out from the other side of the beast and fixed Harry with an appraising look.

"Hello," Harry said. "Meetings go well?"

"Yes," Viktor said. He paused as if he could read Harry's thoughts.

"I have to go back to London tonight," Harry said. Hermione jerked upright. She came around to face Harry, her face full of hurt.

"Why? You can't leave, I'll leave, I..." her face twisted and Harry realized she thought he was rejecting her. She turned and tried to run from the room, but Harry caught her by the shoulders. When she struggled to free herself, he had no choice but to pull her against his torso, pinning her arms against her sides. Hermione twisted in his arms as he held her fast.

"Stop. Stop. Be still, Hermione," he commanded. She stilled, her back to his chest, head down. "Let me explain." He turned her to face him.

"We can't do this without talking to Ron first, and Ginny," Harry said. "This can't be something we have to lie about and hide from. They deserve to know if we're going to be more than friends." He leaned down to look at her and knew she didn't believe him.

"You can't," she choked. "Ron will be angry and you'll convince yourself that he will never speak to you again and if he can't handle you and I together that it can't happen." Crying in earnest now, Hermione backed away and fled from the barn. Harry let her go, pressing his fingers into his eyes, temples pounding.

"What are you going to do, Potter?" Viktor said from behind him. Harry turned, having nearly forgotten about his being there even though only minutes had gone by.

"I - I have to go. There isn't any other way to do this. I can't lie, she deserves better than to be kept in the closet like a forgotten toy."

"She is no toy. If Weasley refuses to give his consent, what will you do?"

"I plan to talk him into it, somehow." Harry said.

"Not even a thought," Viktor said, frowning. "You believe people are as noble as you are, Potter. Weasley will not give Hermione to you because you want her. He is possessive and jealous, I have seen this many times.

"Go. I will make your apologies to Hermione. But if you decide that you are not ready to put aside the cares of others for her, stay in London. Do not come back here. I will take care of her." Viktor turned and left Harry alone in the corral.

Harry arranged for an emergency portkey to be hand-delivered and set out for the set departure point. Although he'd stared death in the face more times than most wizards, the idea of facing his best childhood mate felt like a thousand knives slicing into his flesh. He felt exposed and raw, vulnerable.

Ron was going to be angry. No, he was going to be furious. Wands might be drawn, fists were likely to fly. He might not have Ron in his life.

The enormity of what he was risking rose up in him and spiked his adrenaline. He needed a plan.

Ginny first, he decided. Possibly she would be able to give him a baseline for how badly Ron would take Harry's news. Then, to Ron's.

His portkey brought him to a lobby area just inside Gringott's bank, where he presented his wand for inspection. Heading out into Diagon Alley, he turned and made his way to the apartment Ginny shared with George above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Ginny took in Harry standing on the landing and said, "Fuck. It's true, isn't it?"

"What's true?" Harry asked.

"Get in here," Ginny said. "I just got a copy of today's Prophet and no sooner than I read the juicy gossip column than you turn up looking guilty as sin. Here," she said, picking up the newspaper from the living room table and handing it to him. "Page eight."

Harry rifled through the pages until he got to the "Life and Style" section. Ginny pointed to a column called "Snips and Snipes," which was filled with blind items and unsourced gossip bits. The second item read:

_"A little birdy has been singing into this columnist's ear that Harry Potter has gone on a working holiday, staying with fellow Quidditch superstar Viktor Krum on his preserve of deadly beasts. Also in residence with Krum and Potter, according to a tiny canary, is Hermione Granger, one of the famous Trio and long-rumored flame of both Potter and Krum. This cockatiel wonders if Miss Granger isn't set on making a little love nest after her contentious breakup with the cuckold of the Trio, Ronald Weasley...."_

"That is just..." Harry was at a loss for words. "How did this person know where I've been staying and who was there?"

"Do you really think there aren't moles from the Prophet everywhere?" Ginny asked.

"The only time I mentioned it was to a couple of the blokes at a team meeting."

"Well then," Ginny said briskly, "there you go. Probably one of your reservists is getting paid to leak information to the Prophet. I bet at least a few people know you're back in jolly old England and that you're here with me. Bet they're drawing odds on how quickly I kick your arse out of here."

"Damn it," groaned Harry in frustration.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't have something to tell me," Ginny raised her eyebrows. "So spill it. And you're a shit liar, so save the storytelling and give it to me straight."

Harry paced around the living room. "Nothing's happened, at least not yet," he said. "I kissed her," he admitted when Ginny crossed her arms, looking unconvinced. "That's it."

"Is it mutual?" Ginny answered her own question. "Of course it is. Hermione has always been in love with you." Harry heard the trace of bitterness in Ginny's voice.

"Are you willing to lose Ron by acting on your feelings?"

"Do you think that's certain?" This was the question that burned most.

"I honestly don't know," Ginny said, pursing her lips. "He has never been comfortable with the fact that you seem to get everything he wants but can't have. Not that it's your fault, you can't help being you."

Harry let out a slow breath, sinking into a chair and putting his head in his hands. "What do I even say to him?"

"You don't say anything until it's a done deal."

"What? No. I can't do that to him."

"Look, Harry," Ginny said, throwing her hair back and looking as fierce as he'd ever seen her. "He is going to be beyond furious. He is going to hate your guts and want to grind you into the dirt. Then he's going to get over it. He always does. Hermione is not his girlfiend anymore, not his fiancee. There isn't a part of this that's any of his business."

"I don't want him to find out through some gossip rag -"

"You're the only one who buys into your hype, Harry. The choice is simple. If you want Hermione, you'll leave Ron in the dark until the deed is done." She grinned sardonically. "If you insist on full disclosure up front, you're going to be back here in the morning with neither of your best friends speaking to you. What is that saying, one in the hand is better than two in the bush? Hm, that might be a little off for this situation, but it'll do."

There came a shuffling sound from the fireplace. A letter flew from the grate into Ginny's hand. Opening it, she looked up at Harry.

"Looks like the local hounds are on your trail," she said, holding the piece of parchment out to him. "Witch Weekly would like me to comment on the fact that you, Hermione and Viktor are engaging in "lewd, nude romps" in the morally-lax Bulgarian countryside." She smirked.

Harry snatched at the letter and skimmed. "Oh ho, funny," Harry said. The short note contained a request for official comment from Witch Weekly.

"That'll be the lead cover story if you don't do some damage control."

"How do I do that?" He asked.

"Call your publicist and your agent," Ginny sighed. "Tell them to throw some carrion to these vultures and get out of town.

"You'd better go back, the international press no doubt gotten wind of this by now, if they're working this quickly. Not that I don't want you to stay and chat, of course-" she smirked, "but the longer you're here, the more chatter is going to kick up."

Harry stood up. "Thanks for not hexing me immediately," he said.

"I considered it," she said, and Harry figured she wasn't joking. "Take the floo. That should throw them off your trail for a few minutes."

"Thanks, see you, Ginny," Harry said, grabbing a handful of floo powder and throwing it into the flames. "Hogsmeade," he stated clearly and Ginny swirled out of sight as the powder did its work.

Checking the street before he left the entryway, he walked up the high street of Hogsmeade in the blackest of moods. It could have been worse, Harry knew. He was still in possession of all of his body parts and his wand. What Ginny said made sense and she still had the measure of him, even though she still hadn't totally forgiven him.

Owls were no doubt winging their way to the little copse near Viktor's, letters and interview requests attached. He considered sending a warning owl to the preserve, but it likely wouldn't reach Viktor before he was able to get back.

He didn't want to go back to London and reactivate his portkey just yet; he didn't want to attract attention by showing up in Diagon Alley before the shops closed and the streets emptied. Seeing the Hog's Head, Harry decided to sit for a while and consider his options. Aberforth, behind the bar as usual, made some small talk with Harry about Quidditch and mutual acquaintances, but he sensed that Harry wanted to be left alone with his firewhiskey and his thoughts and returned to wiping the dusty bottles behind the bar.

Two firewhiskeys later, Harry felt reasonably fortified to return to Diagon Alley and take the portkey back. Luckily he was able to Apparate directly outside the portkey office. Harry noticed a man and woman loitering across the street and ducked below the windows, out of sight.

He figured it was past midnight when he finally walked through the yard of the cottage and through the mudroom. The house was dark, and Harry lit his wand so he could be sure not to bump into anything. He listened intently for anyone who might be moving around, and was disappointed that Viktor and Hermione appeared to be in bed. Keyed up, Harry paced the kitchen, then the living room, trying to decide whether he should wait until morning or wake them up now.

"Everything okay?" Hermione's quiet voice came from the kitchen doorway. Harry turned around.

"Yeah," he said, walking toward her. All of his worries fell away with each step he took.

"Did you talk to Ron?"

"No. This isn't any of Ron's business," Harry said, taking her into his arms and kissing her. "We can tell him whenever we feel it's the right time. Agreed?"

"Okay," she said. "Are you coming to bed?"

"Is that an invitation?"

Hermione took his hand and led him down the hallway to her bedroom. Before she opened her door, Harry tugged her hand. "Viktor?" he said.

"Is aware," she said.

Harry nodded and followed Hermione inside. Harry felt as nervous as a teenager, but Hermione came to him with such passion that he forgot to analyze how things ought to proceed.

"Take off your clothes," Harry ordered, pulling his t-shirt from the waistband of his jeans and unbuckling his belt. When she hesitated, he said, "do it."

She pushed down her pyjama bottoms and top, then pulled off her socks, leaving her in her knickers. Harry watched her as he finished undressing. "All of it. I want to see you completely naked."

He moved over to her and pulled her upright, running his hands down her back before stripping off her knickers. Her soft gasp was captured by his mouth crashing down on hers.

Harry had imagined their first time together as a slow, romantic interlude with lots of slow kisses before moving to a thorough exploration of each other's bodies, and ending with a long session of lovemaking.

In reality, things went from kissing to deep fondling to penetration in a matter of minutes. Hermione pulled him over her, arching her hips and he was inside her, pushing her into the bed. She rode his thrusts and made short sharp noises in counterpoint to Harry's rough pants in her ear. His stubbled cheeks scratched against her and the deep burn thrumming through her veins flared to life when he caught the sinew of her shoulder in his teeth.

When it was over and they'd caught their breath, Harry raised his head. He took in Hermione's flushed, sweaty face and felt his own cheeks burn hotter than ever. "Sorry," he said. "That wasn't what I had in mind."

"I'm not complaining." Hermione brushed damp hair away from his face. "There's plenty of time to get to what you have in mind."

Harry felt energized when he woke a few hours later. He took the time to look at Hermione's naked body and kiss her awake before he left her to bathe and dress for the day. Viktor was in the kitchen cracking eggs into a bowl. He looked up when Harry came in.

"I understand congratulations are in order," he said. "You convinced Weasley that you should have his best girl?"

"Not exactly. Ron is on a need-to-know basis and right now he doesn't need to know. We'll tell him eventually," Harry assured Viktor when his eyebrows came together, "but it wouldn't do any good to stir things up right now."

Viktor nodded once and returned to his cooking. Harry examined Viktor. He seemed to be acting normal enough, if tense. "This is a good assumption to make. Weasley will get past it in time."

"What about you?" Harry asked. "Hermione said you were aware, to use her terms, of what was going on."

"I am," Viktor said in a tight voice. "I will need time, but I know this is not personal between the three of us. You are not the kind of person who can share those whom you love."

"I - if you want us to go, or I'll leave and Hermione can stay -"

"Don't be stupid," Viktor's eyebrows snapped together again, "I am grown and I understand the way these things work." He shrugged. "You both are welcome to stay as long as you like."

Harry and Hermione spent a week talking more than they had in years, conversations that spoke more to new lovers than old friends. Viktor was discreet and made himself scarce at the appropriate moments. Harry tried to return the favor, but Hermione had a way of talking him into new and different venues for shagging. Not that he minded. That much.

It niggled his brain once in a while that Harry couldn't bring out Hermione's wild side nearly as well as Viktor had done on the two occasions Harry'd seen them together. He turned over the options in his mind. The idea of including Viktor was intimidating to Harry, but he wanted to tap into the part of Hermione that he'd seen earlier and knew that it was the element of danger and force that brought it out of her.

Harry went to Viktor and explained. "I think she misses you in some ways," Harry said, "her fantasies involve things that I can't...I don't even know how to give her. I want Hermione to be satisfied."

Viktor was silent for so long Harry wondered if he'd forgotten to respond. Finally, he said, "Can you trust me with her and with you? I can help you with this, but I need your word that you will not become jealous and will not back out. This would damage your relationship with Hermione forever if you wanted to fulfill her fantasies but couldn't go through with it because of a silly notion of ownership."

"What do you suggest?" Harry asked.

"She knows that you would not become possessive or angry? She must be secure in this fact."

"I think so."

"Leave it to me," Viktor said. "Opportunity will present itself at the right moment and we will make Hermione very happy."

Opportunity arose during Harry's last weekend of holiday. The three of them were finishing up in the barn when Harry led Hermione into the tack room. "Want a quick shag before Viktor comes through?"

"Harry, Viktor is just upstairs. He would hear us." Hermione squirmed but didn't quite manage to break away from the kisses Harry trailed down her neck.

"We could be very quiet," Harry whispered. "He wouldn't have to know a thing."

"He'll be coming here when he gets done," Hermione said, her breaths coming a little faster as Harry cupped her breasts, kneading their center.

"Do you think we have enough time before he shows up?" Harry asked, unbuttoning Hermione's trousers. "Think we could get away with it?" Sliding a hand into her knickers, Harry found her growing slick with arousal. "Would you like to try?"

"We need to cast a muffling charm," she said, going for her wand. Harry snatched it from her and threw it out of reach.

"No. We'll just have to be quiet enough not to disturb anyone."

Hermione's face flushed. They tore at each other's clothes, leaving them where they fell. Harry put down a cushioning charm on the bales he'd had such a close view of from outside the room and laid Hermione on them. She tried to pull him down on top of her but he shook his head.

"I want to look at you for a second," he said.

"Harry, c'mon," Hermione whispered in a low whine. "Viktor."

"Viktor will wait." Harry went to his knees and without warning, thrust his hand between Hermione's spread thighs, fingers pushing deep inside her. She cried out, trying to stifle the noise with a hand clapped over her mouth.

"I think you may have alerted Viktor to our presence," Harry said, watching feverishly as Hermione moved over his fingers, hot and wetter than ever.

"Harry, please, we need to hurry," Hermione moaned.

Grinning, Harry leaned down and replaced his hand with his mouth. Grabbing her thighs to hold her hips steady, he ate at her, avoiding the hard bud of the clitoris until she was bucking and whining low in her throat. Finally, he flicked his tongue hard against the nub, eliciting another gasping cry she couldn't muffle.

"Shh," he said, lifting his head to gaze up her torso. "You wouldn't want Viktor to see you like this, would you?" She arched her hips and twisted against Harry's hands. "Or would you?"

"Harry, Harry, stop, please, let me -" twisting her body away, she clambered up on her hands and knees. "Lay down, Harry, and let me do you while you're doing me."

Harry brought his body around to a sitting position, then helped Hermione kneel over him. He turned her so her bare bottom would be clearly visible through the slats and doorway. She didn't protest being so exposed.

The stiffening of Hermione's body told Harry that something was amiss. Hermione froze, then scrambled to her knees, coming to rest beside Harry.

"Viktor," Hermione said in a breathless voice. She sounded equal parts anxious and aroused. "We - we didn't think you'd -"

"Back on your knees, Hermione," Viktor said.

"What, no," Hermione said in a panic-stricken voice. "Harry?"

"Do you want Viktor to join us? I think you might like the challenge." Hermione was still stiff so Harry took her into his arms, kissing her passionately, willing her to go with the flow of what was happening.

With Viktor out of her line of sight, Hermione relaxed a fraction and allowed Harry to bring her out of her dazed state. He felt Viktor maneuvering Hermione's hips and bringing her back onto her knees. Harry allowed the movement to break their embrace and shifted back to sit on his heels, his erection thickening as Hermione moved to take him in her mouth.

Groaning, Harry tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He tried to forget about Viktor and concentrate on the hot suction moving over him. Hermione groaned encouragingly when Harry put his hands on her head, and increased her efforts when he threaded his fingers into her hair. His breath was coming faster and he knew he could make it over the edge with a few moments' more.

He fought the urge to thrust into her mouth and brought his head forward, intending to watch the erotic slide of her body, but Harry's eyes focused instead on Viktor. Not bothering to disrobe, Viktor was on his knees behind Hermione, stroking his erection, his focus concentrated between her splayed hips.

"Harder, take more," Viktor ordered Hermione, who obeyed, taking Harry deeper.

Harry's hips moved forward involuntarily, seeking the additional stimulation, and her moan caused him to jerk again, digging his fingers into her scalp. Vaguely he hoped he wasn't hurting her, but he was so close, so close...

He came when Viktor moved into position behind Hermione and pushed inside her with one hard thrust, pushing Hermione's mouth roughly against him. He pulled her hair, stilling her head the best he could while his release pulsed from him. Harry felt Hermione's body rocking with each push from behind.

Breathing hard, Harry released Hermione and sat back on his heels. Viktor took over, bending her nearly double as he drove into her. Hermione threw her head back, her swollen lower lip between her teeth, and rode out an orgasm that suffused her entire body with color. Harry thought she'd never looked so undone.

Viktor went rigid with his release a minute later. He gently pulled away from Hermione, supporting her as she rolled to her side.

Harry summoned his and Hermione's clothing from the floor and they dressed as Viktor rearranged his fly and zipped up. Harry leaned down and kissed Hermione soothingly.

"Was that okay?" he asked.

"It was..." Hermione's blush grew deeper. "Did you do this for me?" she asked, looking between the two men.

"We love you, Hermione," Viktor said. "Whatever it takes to make you happy, we will do it."

"We should probably talk about this -" Harry cut her off.

"Later," he said. "Let's go back to the house."

Harry kept his flat in Charing Cross Road for appearance's sake but made Bulgaria his home base. News and gossip were hard-pressed to reach them, and Harry learned to ignore the jibes and insinuations until they petered out to background noise.

Harry and Hermione went to see Ron, who was indeed furious. In the end, though, he came around to a grudging acceptance of their relationship and stood up alongside Viktor as groomsman for Harry and Hermione's wedding later that year.

Ginny received a large bouquet of flowers and several boxes of Honeydukes' chocolate along with a thank-you card from Harry. She pitched them all into the fireplace without a second glance.

Rumors swirled about the nature of the relationship between Viktor Krum, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, but no one could ever dig up more than the story of their chance meeting at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament and their shared business interest in a dragon preserve in Bulgaria.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback [here](http://community.livejournal.com/smutty_claus/123146.html?mode=reply).


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